Like Butter...

Buttermilk!

Have you used Buttermilk to cook?  Traditionally – you may know Buttermilk to be a comforting ingredient in some of our country’s most famous and infamous calorific foods.  But please – some good old Southern skillet-fried chicken, indulging pancakes dripping with maple syrup, or a flaky, buttery biscuit…who can resist that?  Consequently, who can resist associating buttermilk with decadent chow?  

What the heck is BUTTERMILK anyway?!?...buttermilk isn’t quite the dangerous temptress as you may perceive.  In fact,  there is NOT a lick, stick or nick of butter in any buttermilk.  

One cup of Organic Valley Cultured Lowfat Buttermilk has just 2.5 grams of fat and low cholesterol – virtually the same calorie and fat content as regular 1% milk.

But it’s thickness and tang can make it a great way to add flavor and combine other dry ingredients – like breadcrumbs and herbs – to chicken, pork or fish cutlets.  Seafood can be very intimidating to some folks.  Personally – it took me a long time to embrace aquatic cuisine.  I think for many kids – it’s quite normal to be fish averse.  

1950's Lent: Fiery Pits of Hell

Even more so with an Irish Catholic mother who grew up during the days when you could not eat meat at all during Lent or risk burning forever in a fiery pit of Hell for licking a piece of bacon.  I’m sure that had quite a psychological impact on her.  Needless to say – we didn’t see much seafood unless it was the Filet O’ or Whaler variety. 

But my tastes have evolved as have my willingness to be more adventurous with seafood.  I still do not lean towards the real oily, strong fish like trout or catfish.  But a nice mild flounder or tilapia is just what the old arteries need to mix up the menu.  You can give frozen fish a shot but be careful not to buy some over-seasoned or over-breaded fish stick fish.  Been there.  Soggy city.  It will put you off for seafood for awhile and you will probably pay a good dime for it.  Take a trip to Whole Paycheck aka Whole Foods.  Flounder or tilapia is usually $9.99 a pound.  You could easily feed a family of four on a pound of flounder.  Whole Foods has some pretty strict requirements about where they catch their fish, how it's transported and what it's been fed.  It won't be bleached, caught with a dolphin baby or two, or fed hog shit. Plus the folks behind the counter have actually been trained.  Pick up some other ingredients while you are there...and make this:

Flounder with a Red Dress On 

Toss some panko bread crumbs in bowl.  Then - mix in some cayenne pepper (a few shakes) and some fresh ground pepper.

Pour about a cup of buttermilk into another bowl. Add a bunch of mad dashes of Frank's Red Hot or your favorite hot sauce.  Go heavy.  No one's looking.

Take out the 2 to 4 flounder filets that you bought that day and rinse them off. Swaddle them in some dry paper towels and pat them dry.

Heat some extra virgin olive oil up in a cast iron skillet or sauté pan.  Get it shimmering.  Turn the oven on 350.  

Take your flounder filets and drown them in the buttermilk/hot sauce.  Really dunk 'em like they murdered your best friend.  

Shake 'em off.  And dredge them through the crumb mixture. 

Gently lay the filets down into the skillet or pan.  Sauté for about two minutes.  Gently flip over the filets. Turn off the stove and toss the skillet or oven safe pan into the oven for about 12 minutes.  

While you are waiting - I suggest a little green salad.  Arugula, spinach, field green mixture.  Take a lemon or two limes.  Cut the lemon in half.  Cut open both limes.  Squeeze half a lemon or one lime on the greens.  Toss with a bit of olive oil.  Crack some fresh pepper, some salt.  Done.

When the time is right, pull you pan from the oven and lay down just over one side of the greens.  Squeeze the other half of lemon or the lime over the flounder.  If you are feeling a little wild...toss a few more shakes of fire (Frank's Red Hot) on them, break some bread and then go to town.  

Now if you are seasick...you can substitute a thin chicken filet or a thin pork chop for the flounder.  Regardless of your protein - it's an easy, good meal.  

Malevolent Tidings

It's the witching hour.  Ghoul season.  Time to feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end...All Hallows Eve is near...

You can feel it on your skin.  Perhaps after dinner.  When the sun has set.  And you need to take the garbage out.  The screen door opens and closes with a bit more screech than normal.  The chill in the air gives you pause.

You can smell a fire burning.  The moonlit night is unusually bright allowing shadows to dance along the driveway along with the scratching of the leaves blowing in the wind.  A dog is barking in the distance.

As you toss your trash into the bin, you notice the gate leading to the backyard is open.  Strange, since you remember it gives you trouble and after yard work this afternoon, you had to slam it shut.  You ponder whether or not to investigate.  Something gives you pause.  You feel goosebumps.  You are an adult, you tell yourself.  So silly.  You hear the phone ring from inside the house.  Someone in your family answers, saying hello.  A brisk breeze kicks up and you dig your hands into your sweatshirt pockets.



You look at the street and see that it's empty.  The neighbors next door shut out their porch light and soon their bedroom window goes dark.

You walk through the wet grass and try to peer into the backyard - not exactly sure what you expect to see.  It's pitch black.  You hear a twig crack.  And another twig crack.  You check the front pocket of your jeans and realize that you don't have your cell phone.  You privately chide yourself for being a baby.  You shrug your shoulders, swing the back gate wide open, and cross into the yard and into the darkness...

========================================================================

Here's some fine flicks to get you in the mood.  Some of my favorites anyway.  There are many....

What are scary movies are you fond of?  Share your evil!  Leave a comment with your favorite fear flick!

Halloween (1978)
The grandparent of Halloween horror. Fire up some candles. Open the window a crack.  Make some popcorn.  Turn off the lights.  Turn the volume up.  It's the night he came home...



Insidious (2011)
Yes - it's completely ridiculous.  Insidious if you will.  But there are some good, scary images.  It's a nice campfire yarn.  Scary.  Creepy and features a great cast.  If you are a new parent.  And you are home alone.  And you sneeze.  And you here someone say "Bless You" on the baby monitor.  THIS IS THE MOVIE FOR YOU!



Session 9
Late 1800's insane asylum combined with the insipid 1980s "hoax" that swept across the US and UK about satan worship and ritualistic killings...don't let the lights go out...



The Howling (1981)
A classic...film at 11.



Let Me In (2011)
She's the girl next door...and you are probably lunch...




The Fly (1986)
What happens when you mix science and mother nature?  Mother nature kicks your ass and gives Geena Davis a maggot in her oven.   

Take Stock

I make my own chicken stock.  And beef stock.  And I love it.  There I said it.  When I planned to quit smoking almost four years ago, I knew I had to come up with a plan to keep myself busy.  And so it was food.  No processed food, no fast food, minimal dining out, all fresh, all homemade.  Those were the rules.  And lots and lots of alcohol.  Believe it or not - alcohol did not intensify my craving for nicotine.  Breathing and blinking did.

So to kill those cravings, I made dinner from scratch every night.  When I woke up on the weekends - I made chicken stock.  And beef stock.  And chicken noodle, beef barley, pasta fagioli, goulash, cream of asparagus, chipoltle sweet potato, minestrone...  

Now...I'm addicted.   Not to cigarettes...to food.  Steak marinades, chili, chicken cacciatore, tomato sauce, lasagna, buttermilk baked chicken, halibut, seared scallops, lobster fra diavlo...hot damn...I'm HUNGRY.

It is hugely soothing to chop, simmer, salt, slice and stir.  Put the TV on.  Get your knives out.  And go for it.

theAndrew's Chicken Stock

1 3-4 pound bird (preferably free range and organic, mudderf*ckers)*
1 large turnip halved or quarted
1 large onion halved
3 carrots snapped in half
3-4 celery stocks snapped in half
1/2 - 1 whole head of garlic
1 parsnip halved
a handful of whole peppercorns
a few fresh bay leaves
a few sprigs of thyme

• Fill the stock pot to you are just about covering everything.
• Bring to a boil and then simmer for 2 hours (go watch a movie or fish out the ol' abmaster)
• After about 2 hours - I like to mash the vegetables through a sieve to get all of their juices out.  You can use a potato masher.  It's fun.  
• Remove the chicken bones and pick off the good meat (once it cools down for God's sake...) and save the meat for your soup.  Some TV chefs tell you to toss that meat in the garbage.  THEY ARE SINNERS AND GOING TO HELL!  ...It's good meat for soup.  
• Strain your stock through a sieve. Let it cool a bit and then store overnight in your fridge.  All the fat will rise to the top and when you are ready to cook your soup the next day - voila - just scoop it off.  Don't you wish that worked on humans?

*I slice off the breasts and toss in some extra thighs or legs.

_______________________________________________________________

Some extra thoughts for this rainy Sunday

1. Rutgers - five in a row!
2. End of Watch - thumb up - but not avidly so
3. Aimee Mann
4. Mumford & Sons
5. Homeland
6. Malbec
7. Barley
8. Relax and get some sleep

Shaking Fist!

Oh what a pleasant weekend I had last week.  I had a martini (okay two - Hendricks gin) by the sea at this great restaurant that was not crowded due to the off season.  A bowl of crab bisque and some short ribs capped it off.  Cloud 9?  I think it was more like Cloud 11.

Then on my way home - the dam broke.  I got so infuriated by the asinine, screwball antics perpetrated by the powers that be run the PATH train, while waiting for what seemed like hours (it was 25 minutes) for the train to take me back from the pleasure of Newark Penn Station to the jewel of Manhattan known as Lower.  From my phone, I fired off a barrage of mean-spirited, vile language-laden e-mail assaults via their Contact Us link on their mobile website.  

I made sure in my introduction to proactively tell the person(s) responsible for collecting these inquiries that I was not directing my idiotic rage towards them, to not take it personally...because the root cause of my ire was born in the belly of the bureaucratic beast known as the lofty, appointed and non-accountable assholes known as the Board of Commissioners.  What followed generally consisted of me accusing the BoC of being the modern equivalent of Wild West train robbers.  Misusing public funds and trust to line their own pockets and self-interests while peons like me sit at their mercy due to the incredibly 'f-ed up' fact that they have such a convenient monopoly.  So after calling them all greedy bastards and spoiling scum on the bottom of humanity's shoe in a number of emails, I decided to call it quits.

Did I feel better?  Not really.  Did I accomplish much?  No.  Did it tarnish the relaxing weekend I just experienced?  Nuh-uh.  So what does this mean?  It means...I'm an old man yelling at a cloud.  And for that moment...that's really all I needed to be.  It was temporary and I moved on because being an old man yelling at a cloud is silly.  To do that everyday...to shake my fist and call people names and accuse them of over-the-top crimes and misdemeanors in a self-righteous gloat is no way to live.  Looking back on it, it's kind of embarrassing especially considering that the person picking up my "feedback" is probably sitting in a call center in Utah (yes - that's the new domestic outsource nirvana...Utah.  They work for a cheap wage, are cheerful, don't talk back, are on time and never break a sweat....)  Utah is the new Mumbai.  

Anyway - it's okay for me to yell at a cloud and shake my fist out the window.  Every once in a while I let my guard down and stick my left foot into the leg of a pair of underwear already occupied by the right foot.  And I shake my fist at those bastards at Fruit of the Loom.  As long as I move on and do not allow my shaking fist to smolder and burn so that my entire day is an aggravated shit hemorrhage (favorite expression of my mother who used to threaten us kids with "When you're father gets home, he's going to have a shit hemorrhage") - then I'm cool.  

PS - to the PATH BoC:  

Breathe.

So I am at the Jersey shore tonight.  It's late September.  It's just me, some bats and a badger or two.  The ocean is raising a ruckus.  She's really gossiping good with the moon.  Loud, sassy and brassy.

Jersey Gem.

Some of my friends...well...actually...most of my friends have been having hard times as of late.  Me too.  Not necessarily "brother can you spare a dime..." type of difficulties. This trouble they've seen hits directly in your gut, your heart, your soul.  

And it makes the head very heavy.  Shame, anger, woe, agony, love, tears and hugs.  It'll do it.

See - I love these friends.  Very much.  Some of them I have known since I was a little boy.  Others - I have met in more recent decades.  But   a common thread through all of these great people is that they are simply so cool.  With big hearts. No phonies.

Push through, pals.  I've sucked at this blog.  I haven't felt like updating it.  I am not sure I understand what I'm supposed to do with it.  I think I had good intentions but I think I am better at other mediums.  So I might not do much with this.  I don't know.

Here's some final thoughts for tonight:

• Paolo Nutini 
• Buttermilk
• Bourbon
• Jalapenos
• Oceans or rivers or whatever body of water you can get your eyes on
• Breathe
• Jenny Slate (Marcel!)
• Wake up early
• Lay down on the floor and get up as many times as you possibly can 
• Paul Thomas Anderson
• Michael Chabon
• Lucy Van Pelt
• Organic
• No GMO
• America
• Louis CK
• Wanda Sykes

Good night friends.  Good night.  Good night.  Good night.  

Pork and Congress

Hola mi amigos.

Last few days been good to you?  I hope so.

So today was a primary election in NYC and I did my duty and stumped for a candidate I think does a good job.  And two of my good friends used to work for her and I happen to live in her district in NYC.  I didn't do too much.  I just hung out on the Lower East Side and handed out some pamphlets and said, "Hello, did you vote today?" with a wide, Eddie Haskell-esque smile.

After a draining evening of stumping with my two fine friends and their fine toddler (okay an hour...), we heard our candidate was winning by a landslide....so we got the go-ahead to high tail it out of there and eat.  Location:  Edwards on West Broadway.  (Forgo the burger and order the fresh grilled tuna sandwich.  You will eat it in two seconds flat.)


While I love a good political campaign or restaurant (seriously...I'm obsessed...from my salad days as a sub maker to my days  as a li'l waiter dude to my daydreaming cafe moments of zen) but I also love to cook at home.

That's not Porkchops, Slaw or Cob!

Porkchops, Slaw and Cob

One inch thick bone-in French cut porkchops.

A few splotches of EVOO, vinegar, South African seasoning, broccoli slaw mixed with low-fat parmesan ranch dressing and a few dashed of chipoltle hot sauce, some corn on the cob mixed with fresh-squeezed lime juice and a pat of butter…made for a fantastically tasty yet not too complicated meal.

Fresh, minimally processed ingredients and food. 

On a cast iron grill (with a loose sheet of aluminum foil to capture the juice and smoke!) porkchops took about 8 minutes on each side with a 4-5 minute rest. 

Corn = ten minutes

Slaw = 2 minutes

Clean up was a snap!  A little elbow grease on the cast iron grill plus a quick rinse for the corn pot.  Let the digestion begin!

Lunder and Thightning

Holy Smokes!

It was dark and stormy...in my head and in the air.  I was in a funk this morning.  (Okay - the past two weeks actually...)

Thankfully, a rollicking and elaborate thunder, electric and rain storm was traveling through town and put on quite a show.  Wicked and dramatic. 

Everyone was standing at the windows and watching.  A few of us born in suburbia waxed nostalgic at putting on bathing suits and playing in the rain.  We watched lightning strike.  And then we went back to our computers...but there was more to come. 

Sci-fi effect-grade lightning rained supreme and the skies were darker than a King novel.  Grand.

Ars Gratia Artis

Moonrise Kingdom

Imagination reigns in Moonrise Kingdom.

Go see it.  It's only 90 minutes and unique.

I put my hand up on your hip. When you dip, I dip, we dip.

I live in New York City near the Manhattan side of the Brooklyn Bridge.  The apartment I live in is new and has never been lived in until now.  It has a washer and dryer inside the apartment, which - for those of you who do not live in a huge urbanopolis - is somewhat of a treat.

I frequently show it to people as if I was displaying a prized treasure like a bequeathed Gauguin sketch or a hanky once used by Babe Ruth.  And the washer and dryer (Scandavian maker, b*tch) sit stacked in their own little closet just waiting to surprise guests and bask in the envy of their reactions.  Usually it's "Oh...an electric dryer" which is Le douche for "Asshole has a dryer."  

For rent:  Bath.  Room.  

It's amazing what is considered a hot commodity in this town.  Someone actually offered to pay rent to use my bathroom as an art studio.  She was a tiny, chin-haired bonnet-wearing ceramicist from Sicily who chain smoked and spit a lot.  

I curse you no matter what!

Anyway - I moved in last September - a week late - after Hurricane Irene had her way with the tri-state area.  I landed a new gig at another enormous financial firm that - at times - invokes lots of brutal internet commentary and an occasional "shit bomb."  

So far, so good.  (Yikes - I once said THAT a board room meeting to my boss' boss' boss when she asked me how things were going.  A week later I quit.  Boo-yah!)

No - things are really good.  I find myself back in Jersey more than I thought.  DAMNIT FRIENDS AND FAMILY - it's New York City.  Come here.  Don't make me go there.  Come here. Granted - there is more dog shit, horse shit and - quite frankly - human shit on the streets then you might find in your neighborhood but hey...need i say anything more but New York City has...Times Square...

I'll show you a good time.  Oh and I can do your taxes.  I'm a registered CPA.  

Times Square.  In my younger youth, Times Square was like the back section of the Village Voice.  Full of any type of depravity you could think of.  Whether you paid for it or not, you could get peed on, spit on, a contact high and an STD or two all in an afternoon.  Now a days, Times Square is actually a set piece for "Good Morning America."  It's like watching an episode of "OMG GMA" - a little bit of news here and there but mostly just commercials.  Avoid it like it was Times Square 1984.  You're not actually getting peed on, spit on, a contact high or an STD anymore but isn't that better then a night out at Cheesecake Factory and a picture of you giving a thumbs up next to J.Lo's wax figurine.

Anyway - NYC Favorites:

Food trucks.  $2 buys me a cup of roasted coffee that must be infused with crack cocaine because I can't live without it and would probably rob a pharmacy and/or a cookie-selling Girl Scout troop in order to fund my habit if I was broke and unable to sell my body due to withdrawals.  It's that good. 

Also - Korean BBQ Food Truck...Kimichi...if you ever try to leave...I will battle you.  I will lose.  

Lower East Side.  Yes you are hip now and less dependent on heroin (or so 80's obvious about it) but you will never be what Brooklyn Heights is today.  Keep it up.  

Brooklyn Heights.  Thank you for being what you are today.  I love your waterfront and your $15 barber who offers up cold shots of vodka and bottles of Stella on the house.  

West Broadway/TriBeCa - it will be our little secret.  

Anyway - there is more to say, more to joke about and more to comment on.  But for now.  So far, so good.    

ECITWC 2: BOOZE AND FOOD

BOOTED & SUITED

So for this little excursion to Portland, my fine friend and I decided that we would not gorge ourselves in one fell swoop and not get besotted in one watering hole.  We decided - quite wisely - to stuff our faces with an assortment of appetizers and went one by one to a different bar, lounge, tavern, whiskey house, saloon.

FIRST STOP:  TEARDROP LOUNGE

Drinks = Delicious and expertly mixed.  For example:  

White Flag

softly acidic, cascading toward a gentle bitterness Tanqueray ginCombier Pamplemousse rose liqueur Fernet Brancalemonagave nectar  

Overall Verdict:  Meh.

The drinks were magnificent (we had two a piece) and the bartender was cool and knowledgeable but the atmosphere was crap.  It made no sense.  As one yelper put it:  "The vibe was... meh. I know they are trying to go for a modern feel, but there was way too much cement and gray for it to be stylish. The layout makes it really hard to walk anywhere and it's a pretty cramped and non-intimate space, especially on Saturday nights."


Here, here!




SECOND STOP:  CLYDE COMMON
Drinks = Delicious and expertly mixed.  For example:

Strega Sour: 9.

Gin, Strega, lemon juice, egg whites, tea-infused honey syrup

Overall Verdict:  Fantastic.  Both of the truffled popcorn and the fideo, sausage, calamari, scallop, squid in squid ink appetizers (holla...) were delicious and satisfying.

THIRD STOP:  ANDINA - a peruvian establishment.
We almost walked out because it looked like there was a wait and it was slightly chaotic.  However - on second thought everyone looked happy and eager to be there - customers and wait staff alike.  We decided to stay and thank goodness we did...holy freaking goodness:

CARAPULCRA CON PUERCO

Cascade Natural pork loin stuffed with Fontal cheese, pan-roasted to order atop wild boar-potato carapulcra,

seasoned with ají panca, peanuts and Moonstruck Fortunato No. 4 Peruvian chocolate, served with a red wine-poached pear 24.

OVERALL - Portland is awesome.  I would say visit it as part of an overall trip to the Pacific Northwest.  Due Seattle, St. Helens and Portland during a long weekend and you are good to go. 

EAST COAST IN THE WEST COAST

VACATION SLIDESHOW!  
So I have just returned from the PNW (Pacific Northwest).  If it were 1968 - I'd invite you over for scotch and ginger ale, Miller High Life and Yahtzee and flick on the ol' slide projector and take you frame by frame while we smoked the shit out of a few dozen packs of Chesterfields.   Followed by a key party.  But it's 2012 - damnit.

I was visiting my fine friends - the Diaz Family.  This clan is a classic family with twins girls, a celebrated cat (think Warhol, Bob Evans, Brando, Baryshnikov, Billy Ocean all wrapped into one...), a doting (albeit hands-on-hips cranky) dad and a mom with an innate sense of cool (albeit she's a cranky, rapid finger wagger...sometimes).

Jet lagged and hungry!

After being picked up at SeaTac - the first place we headed was a renowned hole in the food truck wall that serves up fine Mexican delights.  Don't be afraid of roadside dining.  Shut the voice in your head of your childhood mother screaming warnings of e.coli and dysentery.  It's one of the best pleasures to eat something homemade and street side.  Modern day peddlers and the fare is fine.  If in doubt - check yelp...it's proven to be invaluable and addicting.

For this feast session - we downed soft tacos (a variety for 50 cents a piece and some horchata!  It's like drinking a bowl of milk leftover from some heavy duty Cinnamon Toast Crunch.  Only much better!

THE CITY OF ROSES
Portland - oh Portland.  Where have you been all my life?  Where facial hair and goth children still roam free.  Where the dining and drinks are cool, within reach and available to all without making a months ahead reservation.

Hotel deLuxe...good martinis and good front desk action.

Rotating images of 1940's superstars.  I believe that is Ann Jillian and Martin Sheen.

Who am I?  Pavarotti's ghost with that luxurious entrance?

Self portrait

LODGING
Hotel DeLuxe.  Old school by design.  Friendly.  Shampoo came in a mini-spray bottle.  A bit small but didn't need anything larger.  A great find although next time might stay at Ace...http://www.acehotel.com/portland.

COFFEE

Seattle may lay claim to birthing Starbucks and it's step-sister rival Seattle's Best (which really shouldn't boast so affirmatively...)

It's not illegal.  It's coffee.

Portland's rich coffee scene - as seemingly everything else in that city - is played out in fine, shabby chic fashion.  Barista boats an uber-french press process that is called a vacuum pot. It looks like Willie Nelson smoked a bong and what was left was rich, dark coffee.  We had the traditional french press coffee since we were too in need of a quick pick me up to be dazzled by the fancy pants shenanigans.

In addition - Stumptown is THE ultimate Portland coffee house.  I read a newspaper and drank away a slight jetlagged-cocktail fueled haze on Sunday morning at the Stumptown near the Ace Hotel but I'm getting way too ahead of myself!

Sanka?

Stay tuned...there are drinks and appetizers ahead, mate. 

Welcome!  

The title of this web address?  My former address when I was an international, globe trotting executive.  Flat 14 Molasses House - London, United Kingdom.   I figured it was fitting considering I like to drop the fact I lived overseas into many random conversations...

You:  "Excuse me.  You're stepping on my foot."
Me:  "I lived in London.  They called a car trunk a boot."

Flat 14.  Molasses House.  Overseas.  Where I lived.

Another reason why this title is apropos?  I want this to be as comfortable as a hot, stack of buttermilk hotcakes with a silky golden river of molten molasses lava flowing down the sides and onto the plate.  Oh and I'm obsessed with food.

Good.  Healthy.  Delicious.  Freakin'.  Food.

I'm not saying that I will not deviate and post some randoms ("Was Charades Ever Cool?" or "Does This Freckle Look Like William F. Buckley?") but I will not get political or step on a polarizing soapbox that causes web-rage.  That undeniably overwhelming urge to opine vehemently against an often anonymous commenter on a news/info/entertainment/sports/lifestyle/social media website as if you were delivering closing arguments at Brown Vs. Board of Ed.

"I say you, sir, it was an abomination that a talented lass as Lady Lindsay van Lohan with such precocious talent in said society of the artistic of thee I sing that you describe as having a wooden-like nipple and then some and then some, I decree."

Or some crap like that.

Nor will I choose this venue to post personal affirmations.  Like those Facebook friends we won't name who have a profile picture that is slightly better than a "Glamour Shot" (showing my age?) and talk crazy like "I am so damned grateful, I sh*t thank you notes."  Keep an eye on those folks...they are just one parking ticket away from driving their car through a Pizza Hut with a tankful of gas."

Instead - I want to pass along good ideas and thoughtful chatter and my hope is that I will get some better of both in return.

Cheers and salut!